


Easy For You (I'm Still Adjusting)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Saturday Night Live RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kisses, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Polyamorous Negotiations, Polyamory, Technically a Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 12:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Seven years after leaving SNL, Bill is working his way through some regrets and missed chances.





	Easy For You (I'm Still Adjusting)

**Author's Note:**

> in my recent binge of SNL, I reached the ep where Bill leaves, and the way he and Seth cling to each other at the end of the wedding bit makes me SO emotional so have some hurt and comfort and kissing and some wild speculation regarding Bill's life post-divorce. 
> 
> Big thanks to Hannah for beta'ing! 
> 
> Enjoy!

_may 2013_

As Bill says “I love you, buddy,” and Seth says it back, Bill can’t help but feel like he’s saying goodbye to more than the show. More than New York. Bill can’t help but feel like he’s saying goodbye to everything he’s been too cowardly to ever take a chance on in his eight years on this stage. 

So Bill clings to Seth a little tighter, cups the back of his head and memorizes the feeling of Seth’s hair under his hand, and sniffles weakly against Seth’s cheek. If Seth thinks it’s weird, he doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t say anything more than “I love you, man, you’re incredible,” softly in Bill’s ear.

_seven years later_

Bill’s apartment feels too empty.

He’s sat on his couch with an unopened bottle of whiskey on his coffee table and ice melting in a glass, condensation seeping into the coaster underneath it. His head hangs between his shoulders and he stares at his hands as they tremble. The show is going great but it’s stressful. He’s got friends in the cast and friends in LA but he still feels so alone. He hasn’t seen the girls in a couple weeks because their schedules are all too hectic—his and Maggie’s, yes, but the girls’ too, crazy as it sounds. Hannah is only eleven but she’s got sleepovers and field trips and she’s growing up so quick—

Bill presses a hand against his eyes. He’s so lost in his heartbeat thudding heavy in his ears he doesn’t catch the sound of someone trying to buzz up to his apartment. In fact, it takes his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket to get his attention, and even then, he half expects it to be Maggie or Hannah or even Harper, if she stole Hannah’s phone. 

He answers without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

 _“Christ, you_ are _alive. I was about to call Maggie and make sure she’d heard from you.”_

Bill blinks. “Seth?” 

_“Yes. Let me up.”_ Seth hangs up and Bill stares at his phone, dumbfounded. 

Then the intercom buzzes again and Bill rises from the couch on autopilot. He presses the button to let Seth in, and then loses himself in thoughts like _what the hell is Seth doing here?_ and _Jesus, did he think I was dead?_ and before he knows it, his front door is swinging open and Seth is striding in like a modern-day Kramer. 

“What are you doing here?” Bill asks as Seth kicks the door shut behind him.

“I was in town and wanted to surprise you,” Seth says simply. He holds up a jug of lemonade and then, in his other hand, a bag that appears to be filled with a myriad of junk food. 

“And when I didn’t answer my buzzer, you thought I died? What if I was just sleeping?”

Despite the fact it’s been six months since they last saw each other— _maybe more_ , Bill thinks, wracking his brain to remember the last time he saw Seth in person and coming up empty—Seth pins him with a knowing stare. Bill looks away.

Seth says it anyway, “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“That’s not true,” Bill says.

“Fine.” Seth clears his throat. “You haven’t been sleeping like a _normal human being_. I heard about your midday naps.”

“It’s not a nap if you go to sleep at three in the afternoon and don’t get out of bed until the next day.”

“No, that’s called depression.”

Bill swallows a retort and turns on his heel to stride into his kitchen. It’s considerably smaller than the one he had in the home he shared with Maggie, and the closed-in walls feel oppressive every time he walks inside, even though it’s been going on a year and a half since he moved in. “I’m not depressed.” 

He takes down two glasses from the cupboard as Seth follows him into the dinky kitchen. Seth unpacks the bag of junk food: Chips Ahoy cookies, three different kinds of Lays chips, some sour pull candy, and a bag of miniature dark chocolate Milky Ways. A veritable smorgasbord. Despite the sadness still weighing down his heart, Bill grins.

“I never said you were,” Seth replies. “I’m just a friend, visiting a friend.”

“A friend you’re worried about.”

“I always worry about you, Bill. Always have.” 

“Gee,” Bill drawls, “Thanks, Seth.” He snatches the lemonade from where it sits beside Seth’s elbow and dumps out two hefty pours. He detours to the freezer for some last-minute ice that leaves the drink brimming to the top of the rim of the glass. 

Seth takes one of the glasses from him without asking. He takes a long sip, all the while staring at Bill with his gentle but intense eyes. 

Bill reaches around him and grabs the packet of chocolate chip cookies before hurrying back to his spot on his couch. He sighs to himself at the sight of the pathetic bottle of whiskey and the even worse glass of melted ice, having now become a glass of lukewarm water. 

“Busy night,” Seth observes as he follows Bill to what’s technically the living room (but is also the dining room, except Bill doesn’t have a dining room table). 

“Yep,” Bill says. His voice sounds tired to his own ears. He considers taking care of the whiskey and the glass for a moment but decides instead to fall onto his couch. After a moment, Seth falls onto the cushion beside him. Bill sips at his lemonade, wishes he had the nerve to add a splash of whiskey to it, and asks, “Were you really just in town?” 

“Yep,” Seth mimics in the same tone Bill used. “It’s been too long.”

Bill is ready to nod, to quietly agree, to let the evening pass a little awkwardly but pleasantly. Except his emotions, overwrought and wrung out as they are, have other plans in mind. A lump forms in his throat and his eyes burn with unshed tears and he has to hurry to set down his lemonade before he drops it and ruins the carpet. 

Immediately, Seth is that much closer. He sets his drink aside too and grasps Bill’s shoulder, his other hand fluttering about uselessly. It’d be funny if Bill weren’t rapidly being swallowed up by his emotions. 

Seth pulls him into a hug after a second of uncertainty and Bill clings to him. Bill hides his face, wet with tears, against Seth’s neck and Seth doesn’t flinch away. Seth holds him tighter and strokes his hair and murmurs soft, reassuring things in Bill’s ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “You’re okay, I’m here.” 

It’s not a panic attack— _thank god,_ Bill thinks, because he doesn’t think he could handle that. Still, a breakdown from Bill is hardly new to Seth, who got plenty of practice dealing with these outbursts over the course of their time on SNL. It’s been a while since someone other than Maggie saw him like this, but Bill doesn’t feel embarrassed. Small favors.

Seth holds him until Bill’s heaving, silent cries fade into trembling sniffles. Even then, he only loosens his grip when Bill starts to move away first. 

“Sorry,” Bill says, voice hoarse.

“Don’t,” is all Seth tells him. 

Bill nods. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Seth demands, gentle. 

The words come out immediately. “Do you think I fucked up by leaving the show?”

Seth blinks back at him. “SNL?” Bill nods. “No, god no, Bill. You...You weren’t miserable there, but it wasn’t where you were meant to be forever. Hell, I think the only person that’s meant for might be Kenan.”

Bill gives a watery laugh.

Seth barrels on. “You left at the perfect time. You made the right choice.” Seth stares at him but Bill can’t meet his gaze; he’s not ashamed of the tears still filling his eyes and ambling down his cheeks but he’s still not able to handle the direct scrutiny of Seth’s eyes. “You _know_ that you leaving was a big reason I finally did it.”

“Jason and Fred were leaving too, it wasn’t just me.”

“You were who mattered most, to me.” 

“You got the offer for Late Night,” Bill protests. His pulse is hammering in his ears; it feels like his heart is threatening to burst right out of his chest.

“Sure, but if you had still been on the show when I got that offer?” Seth pauses for a long, heavy moment. “I can’t say I would’ve turned it down, but...It would’ve been a lot harder to say yes.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What?”

“Don’t say that,” Bill pleads. He leans away from Seth’s touch and shifts on the couch to put as much of his back to the other man as possible. “Don’t, I can’t. I can’t have that much power.”

“You don’t have _all_ the power,” Seth points out. His tone is sharp but not unkind. “Alexi has plenty of power too.” 

Bill shakes his head. “Seth.” The implications those five words makes Bill feel light-headed. 

“Bill.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.” 

Silence fills Bill’s apartment in the wake of Seth’s easy compliance. Bill’s heart rate settles slowly and his head clears; his throat is raw and his eyes are sore but he feels better having gotten some crying off his chest. He rubs his hands over his face and finally, _finally_ , chances a glance at Seth. 

The other man has been casually sipping his lemonade this whole time since they fell silent, so his glass is nearly empty. He’s managed to steal a couple cookies from the Chips Ahoy package, and there are crumbs on his tee. 

“Are you saying that Alexi and I have the same power?” Bill asks in a voice that’s hardly more than a croak.”

Seth finishes off his lemonade before speaking. “I’m saying that if you had been on the show, and you had asked me to stay, I probably would’ve said yes.” 

Bill swallows his fear in the face of Seth’s own honesty. “I wanted to kiss you properly at my last show.”

“On live television? Scandalous.” Seth grins.

“I just felt like I was losing my last chance to _do something_.”

“Do something about what?”

Bill replies in a hush, “My feelings for you.” His cheeks burn. 

“You never lost that chance,” Seth replies smoothly. “That chance has always been there. Just, waiting.”

Bill looks at Seth with what can probably only be described as a gobsmacked expression. “What?” 

“You were the one who was married with kids, with this whole...Whole life.”

“You were married too!” 

“Yeah, but Alexi is different. She gets it.”

“Gets what?”

“My feelings for you.” Again, Bill’s words thrown back at him in Seth’s even voice. “We’ve talked about it a lot, so we’d have a plan of action in case you ever decided you wanted to pursue them.” 

Bill feels like he’s dreaming. “Am I dreaming?”

Seth snickers. “No. But also, full disclosure, this isn’t why I came over tonight. I really did just want to surprise you. Maybe watch some stupid late-night television,” another grin, “and I’d crash on your couch.”

The response is out of Bill’s mouth before he can think: “You don’t have to take the couch.” 

“You sure? I don’t mind.” 

Bill still has dozens of unanswered questions. Questions like _is Alexi really okay with this_ and _how long have you felt this way_ and _why didn’t you ever say anything_ and _oh god seriously, am I dreaming?_

Instead of asking any of these—something tells him there will be plenty of time for them in the morning—Bill leans in and Seth meets him halfway. 

The kiss is achingly gentle. It’s nothing like it would’ve been if they had kissed at the end of the wedding bit: that would’ve been messy and desperate and shaking with anxiety. This is soft and sweet, with an undercurrent of need but not so much that it’s sloppy, which kind of feels like a miracle. 

Seth’s hand cupping his cheek startles him into breaking the kiss but only for a second before they’re crashing back together. Bill opens his mouth and slides his tongue along Seth’s bottom lip and Seth groans quietly as the kiss deepens.

For all their years on SNL and for all the Stefon bits, they really haven’t ever kissed like this, tongues gliding together, bodies inching closer and closer together, hands wandering like they would never dare while on live television. 

Seth’s nails bite gently into Bill’s skin along his jaw, and Seth’s other hand is warm on Bill’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Bill can’t keep his hands still, and they flit from Seth’s shoulders to his chest to his hips to his thighs then back to his shoulders.

“Bill, I’m not going anywhere,” Seth murmurs as the kiss breaks again. He punctuates his words with a sweet kiss, chaste. “I told you, you could never miss this chance. I’ve just been waiting for you.”

Bill finally decides on winding his arms around Seth’s neck and dragging him in for another kiss. 

It’s not some magic fix: Bill is still going to be depressed when the morning comes. He still doesn’t see his daughters as often as he wants to, and he and Maggie are still trying to navigate keeping things civil, even being friends, even though their divorce is long since finalized. He’s still stressed and delighted by _Barry_ in equal measure and he’s still going to worry that leaving SNL was his worst decision ever. 

But in this moment, it’s the answer to Bill’s problems. Seth’s lips on his, Seth’s hands on him, Seth’s groans filling the air like music to Bill’s ears. 

“I’m sorry I waited so long,” Bill gasps as the kiss breaks so Seth can trail kisses along his jaw to his ear. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re here now. _I’m_ here now. It’s fine.” Seth nips at Bill’s earlobe. “I told you, I love you.” 

Bill’s arms tighten around Seth. Because he did. All those years ago, Seth did tell him that. Seth has said it several times since then, too. Somehow, Bill just never thought it could mean what he wanted it to. 

As Bill says, “I love you too, fuck, I love you, Seth,” and Seth’s grin burns against his ear, Bill can’t help but feel like, for the first time in a while, things are finally slotting into place. 

**Author's Note:**

> to anyone who read the version of this where I mistakenly left milk as the drink (originally it was lemonade, then I changed it, now I've changed it back) I sincerely apologize for making bill and seth drink ice-milk and also implying that bill would add whiskey to his milk.


End file.
